Channel 2: WInchester
by wholockerlian
Summary: Parts of Sam and Dean's life from an unusual point of view. Some hurt!Dean.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything that's familiar.

**Author's note: **This is my first story, hope you like it, please review... you know, the usual.

Channel Winchester, "Chapter" one.

There are plenty of places where one would expect to see two neat, tall, young men in suits. At a formal event with a senator, on the steps of a big, white, building (refusing to comment on an ongoing investigation), or even in the midst of a busy street in an important city, all these were perfectly normal places for such a group, but in a run-down motel, in a god-forsaken city in the middle of nowhere, well, frankly, this was simply unacceptable. The two aforementioned gentlemen were getting ready to go, cocking their guns, and checking their suits, all the while talking about something, which, judging by their expressions, left them disgusted. As they stepped out of their room, one stuck out his foot and tripped the taller one, who retaliated by punching his assailant in the shoulder.

These two handsome fellows were becoming more mystifying by the moment. What were they? Tax accountants with guns. Not likely. FBI agents? Well, even that theory seemed like it required some work.

As I observed them throughout the day, I noted that the two acted almost synchronized (although they did seem to argue incessantly...), and I realized that they must have worked together for a very long time. The taller one was also the less experienced and evidently followed the other's lead. This second one was a bit of a riddle. He acted like he had not a worry in the world, like he cared about nothing, and like everything was a joke, but at odd periods he became more serious and tense. He seemed exhausted, but kept up appearances for his partner's sake. I also noticed that aside from all of the casual practical jokes and bickering, they seemed to care for each other quite a bit. Perhaps they were old army buddies...

In addition to their variety in clothing (the suits had been discarded for a couple of tattered leather jackets and jeans), and their choice of places to visit (a house, some cheap diners, the motel, and the morgue), they managed to surprise me another time by leaving the motel and heading for the morgue in the middle of the night again. Not very many people surprise me more than once. I was starting to like this.

When I came back after my week-long coffee break, the duo was two states away, in the middle of a swamp. I was absurdly relieved that they weren't wearing suits, but still a little shocked to see them with silver daggers in their hands, ready to plunge the things into the first thing that came by (this eventually turned out to be an invisible crocodile under the spell of a powerful three-year-old). As I was settling down in front of the screen (right, I forgot to explain. I like watching humans going about their daily business when I'm just bored), I saw the two exchange glances and shift their position. I suppose it's time to admit that my 'FBI agents' theory wasn't just in need of "some work", but was completely off...

Lost in my thoughts, I failed to see what happened next, only realizing that something, had, indeed, happened, when I saw the crocodile become visible, and the tall one rush to the side of the other, who for some reason was now on the ground. Something was obviously wrong as the man's green eyes widened and his mouth formed what was supposed to be a mocking smile, but more closely resembled the look a child gives his mother when she forces some disgusting medicine down his throat. The other man shook him, muttering the name, "Dean," over and over again. A dark stain was appearing on _Dean_'s clothes as his eyes closed and his tense body became limp as a puppet whose strings have been cut. His partner tried to shake him again, to wake him, to get a reaction from him, and, as I watched, for the first time in over a millennium, I was sad.


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's note/Disclaimer**: See Chapter One

...

This was also an unfamiliar feeling for me. Human tragedies seem to occur a lot, and I have come to accept them as the random dealings of cruel Fate, but for some reason I couldn't stop looking at the partner's, no, _brother's_ (the resemblance had become apparent) contorted face and glistening eyes. The way he gathered his brother up and hefted him onto his shoulders, the care he took in checking his pulse and the obvious distress he was in made a lump form in my throat. I didn't like it. This story had become much less pleasant, I decided, but I couldn't bring myself to look away.

The tall brother finally got them to their car, and the panicked tenderness with which he put _Dean_ into the front seat was almost too much to watch. He sat down behind the wheel and started up the engine, going from zero to ninety faster than I thought that old car would be able to manage, but it just kept going, as if sensing the urgency of the situation.

This _Dean_ character. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but there was something in his eyes, in his crooked attempt at a smile, something to do with the way he'd tried to keep his brother from seeing the amount of pain he was in... I'd watched many humans. I'd observed them, listened to them, wondered at their ridiculousness, but I'd never really felt for them. Not for a long while. Why this Dean?

Without even realizing that I was doing so, I'd sped up the brothers' journey to the hospital. A few broken traffic lights in the right places, a couple punctured tires in the police vehicles that would've pulled them over, and my work was done. This _Dean_ wouldn't die until he was in a hospital if I could help it (which I could). His brother was obviously falling apart. His hope of getting help and the adrenaline in his system were draining... And then there it was. The hospital.

"He needs help, now!" Two nurses helped his brother get Dean onto a stretcher and gently stopped him when he tried to follow them. I decided that he was the younger brother. Like I'd noticed before, he seemed to look toward his brother for guidance, and now he was simply standing in the middle of the room, looking like an overgrown, lost puppy. A hospital worker approached him with some papers and his face showed relief as he found something to do.

When Dean woke up, his brother was asleep at his side, clutching onto his hand with all the force of his enormous fingers. Trying his best not to wake him, Dean tried and failed to remove his hand from the deadly grip. Giving up, he watched with interest as his fingers went from purple to blue, and then turned to look at his younger brother. As if sensing Dean's gaze, the young man jerked awake, eyes scanning the room in fear before seeing his brother's smile.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, "Dean, how are you?"

"Hey, Sammy." So his brother's name was Sam. Good, I'd been wondering, "I'd be doing great, but I can't seem to feel my hand..." _Sam_ looked confused, then stared in horror at his brother's hand.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry." He let go of the hand, looking so guilty that I felt a pang of compassion for him.

"It's fine, Sam, I—-" his sentence was interrupted by a fit of coughing, his face screwed up in pain (he wasn't even bothering to hide it this time). Sam immediately told hold of his hand again. It was strange to see how much the two were connected and how much it hurt him when his older brother was like this. Sam stood up and pressed his hand down on Dean's shoulders, trying to keep him from shaking too much. Finally the coughing stopped and Sam sat down, looking apprehensive.

"Like I said, I'm great." Dean smiled. "What about you, how are you?" He suddenly looked scared, his eyes scanning his brother, taking in the weariness, the bruises, the cuts.

"I'm okay, Dean, I'm okay."

"Mind letting go of my hand then?"

"Oh, sure. Of course." Sam blushed. "The doctors said you should be fine." He appeared to be reassuring himself more than his brother.

"Good. So when can-" Another fit of coughing. Sam's hands were right back in their places, gripping his brother vice-like, as if Sam needed to keep the physical contact with his brother. "Sam. Sammy-" Dean's eyes closed again and his body relaxed.

As Sam settled back down, he started to talk to his unconscious brother, berating him for what he'd done back in the swamp. I gathered that the boys had stuck their daggers into the invisible beast, but that in the process of dying, it had become enraged and charged Sam, at which point Dean knocked him to the ground, but failed to move out of the way himself. "Stupidest thing you've done, and that's after a long line of stupid," Sam kept talking.

These two boys (men, by human standards...) were more concerned for each other than for themselves. Humans, honestly. Their heads are simply so messed up. I knew the whole story was ridiculous, I understood that this was just more human folly, I would never have considered doing what he'd done... but for some reason, I felt _sympathy_. This idiotic big brother trying to protect his little brother, even if it meant putting himself in his place, even if he didn't know that it would work. Why? Why did Dean do that? And why isn't Sam happy? And why do _I_ feel for them?

When Dean opened his eyes again, Sam was staring at him with a blank look, not actually seeing him. Rousing himself, he noticed that Dean was awake.

"Dean!"

"Hello again, Sammy," Dean's voice was weaker than it had been, "You look like hell. Did you get any sleep at all?"

"Shut up." Sam glared at his brother. In my opinion, he really did look like hell, his long hair messy, shadows under his eyes, and several cuts on his face. The idiot had refused to leave... Another dumb human tendency.

Dean tried to talk again, but winced and stopped.

As I've mentioned before, I don't _connect_ to human feelings very easily, but something was different today. I couldn't keep watching the pathetic way this man tried to hide his injuries from his brother. I knew that his condition wasn't going to improve, and that Sam would watch the man he obviously looked up to slowly and painfully die. Deciding to lift my mood, I switched to a different channel and smiled as a typical high school drama played out before my eyes.


	3. Chapter Three

**Author's note/Disclaimer:** See Chapter Two (Which will tell you to see Chapter One...)

...

The girl had walked into her boyfriends make-out session (with the girl's friend). Typical. This is why humans are humans, and we, well, we're us. I nudged the players in all sorts of different directions. This, _this_, was entertainment. And yet...

The two brothers... One, instinctively protecting his little brother, no matter what cost, the other, needing his older brother, needing him to be all right. The two pairs of green/hazel eyes, locked together by an invisible lock. I subconsciously switched back the channel.

A nurse was offering Sam something to eat. He'd looked at the food and thanked the nurse, but refused. Idiot. Even with my limited knowledge of the human body, I knew they needed to eat. And sleep. He was running one hand absently through his brother's short hair and keeping his grip on his brother with the other. I looked away and did the only thing I could. I got my cell phone out and summoned cruel Fate.

It took me a while, four days to be precise, but in the end I managed to convince her to let these two go (this was a personal favor). I turned back to my screen and looked on.

Doctors were huddled around their patient's bed as Sam leaned against the wall and looked on in horror. Dean had gone into the final stages of some obscure condition involving his injury, a previous one, the swamp, and some other things. A nurse approached Sam and told him that maybe he didn't want to watch. He just shook his head and stayed where he was.

He looked even worse than before (which was impressive). He was still in the same clothes, he appeared to have eaten and slept the minimal amount to remain conscious, and he looked like he was giving up. Fate had told me about these two. They had knocked every prophecy, every rule, and every thing that stood in their path down. They were unpredictable, unbreakable, and most of all, unbeatable. Yet here we were. Sam Winchester, without hope. Lost in despair.

I remembered the two men in suits. Sam, tripping over his brother's outstretched leg and playfully punching him back in the shoulder. Dean, ordering a giant burger in a cheap diner. I hoped Fate would act quickly.

Then there it was. The moment when all the doctors suddenly stopped buzzing around their patient, frantically prolonging the time until the hour when they'd have to tell the young man waiting behind them that all was finished. They let out their breaths as they saw that "the patient had stabilized".

"What happened!?" The enormous younger brother pushed several doctors aside in his attempt to get to Dean before it was too late. It was clear that in his mind, his worst fears had come to life: the doctors must've given up. I smiled at the look on his face when he saw that his brother was fine (well, aside from the bruises, injuries, unconsciousness, etc... he was fine in the sense that he wasn't dying. At the moment...). Even the doctors seemed surprised. Good old Fate.

Dean's doctor told Sam that Dean would probably make a full recovery (if I knew Fate, she'd done the bare minimum: he'd make it, but only just), although he himself looked like he didn't believe what he was saying. It was simply impossible.

As soon as the older Winchester woke up a few hours later he found himself being tightly squeezed. He was visibly in pain, but really didn't seem to mind that much. When he started to turn blue, however, he tapped his over-enthusiastic brother on the shoulder, and was subsequently released (some parts of him, anyway). Sam suddenly started laughing hysterically and his brother rolled his eyes, making Sam laugh even harder. His brother was Dean Winchester again. The one and only, eye-rolling, little-brother-tripping... Oh, the things I'd been told... He was back.

I couldn't help but feel a little pride in this accomplishment. Because of me, these two were themselves again. Because of me. I liked the sound of that.

When Sam calmed down, Dean was still awake, staring at him like he'd grown a second head. Sam couldn't help but laugh a bit more at this.

"You're an idiot, you know that, right?" He asked his still staring brother.

"Right. Saving your ass..." Dean grinned, then winced.

"Seriously, though," Sam's face suddenly looked like he meant business. "You ever do that again, I swear I'll kill you."

"All talk, Sammy." Dean grimaced as he reached out his hand and ruffled his brother's long messy hair.

"Jerk." He reached out and grabbed Dean's hand. Again, although it obviously hurt him, Dean didn't object.

"Bitch." He quietly added before falling back to sleep.

Sam was quietly snoring next to him in ten minutes, still keeping those long spider-like hands on his brother. And they were both smiling.

Humans. They make no sense whatsoever.

Humans may be nothing compared to us, but still... "Gabriel, punisher of the unworthy and justice-giver to the random worthy." I suppose my imaginary title needed some work, but I still liked the ring.

I had the feeling I'd be hearing more about these boys, sooner or later.

It turned out that it was sooner.


End file.
